


Faith

by SandraMorningstar



Series: M for... [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Betrayal, POV Sebastian Moran, how Moran became Moriartys right-hand man, mormor, part of a series, test of faith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraMorningstar/pseuds/SandraMorningstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most crime bosses demand loyalty from their employees.</p><p>Jim Moriarty demands faith, blind trust. Testing his subordinates on a regular basis, divine wrath awaiting those who fail.<br/>But in the world of thieves and murderers, belief can be bought and loyalty sold. Solid coins can make an enigmatic leader a target.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Seems like this is going to be a series now. Whoops... ;-)

Fucking bastard, Moran thought when his phone rang at two o’clock in the morning, waking him rather unpleasantly by blaring “Eye of the tiger” in his face. He’d just gotten the cell from the boss yesterday and if this was Moriarty’s idea of fun – well, he wasn’t amused.

“What’s the matter?”, he asked.

“I need you at the factory. Bring your gun.”, Moriarty ordered sharply. “And make it quick. I haven’t got all day.” He terminated the call.

Sebastian felt a surge of excitement rushing through his body, now wide awake. It was the first solo-assignment he had been given since he’d started working for the man two weeks ago. During that time he’d moved to his new, considerably more spacious apartment and accompanied a variety of Moriarty’s minions when they had to run errands for him. Most of it was just dirty work the boss didn’t consider important enough to waste his own time on. Blackmail, threats, black-marketeering, racketeering and all that fun stuff. On rare occasions he would entrust them with a kill but it hadn’t taken Sebastian long to figure out that Moriarty preferred to do the killing himself. Not in the way that he actually pulled the trigger – he wouldn’t risk getting his hands or, god forbid, his expensive suit dirty – but in that he wanted to witness it.

Moran quickly put on some clothes, grabbed his gun, ammo and his coat and headed for the door, his stride eager and proud. This would be his first kill for Moriarty; he could sense it.

 

To unsuspecting passers-by the warehouse looked like an abandoned, fenced-in factory with its crumbling, derelict walls giving it a rather gloomy vibe and the barbed wire fence keeping prying eyes, teen delinquents, hobos and whoever else might take an interest in the old building out. Anyone seeing it would shrug it off as yet another forgotten industrial corpse when in actuality it belonged to the boss and served him as private torture space.

Sebastian knew where it was but had never been inside.

A broad-shouldered ruffian awaited him, opening the gate as he approached. He nodded, the gesture a silent thank you, and drove inside, parking the car behind the building so it couldn’t be seen from the street and entering through the back door.

Moriarty leaned against a table, smoking and tapping his foot impatiently. “Oh, you finally decided to show up”, he taunted but his words lacked bite and Sebastian knew he was only playing with him. Moran nodded unimpressed, not giving his employer the satisfaction to show fear.

The man pouted, anger burning in his coal-black eyes for a second. Then his poker face returned.

“This is today’s kill”, he said coolly and pointed to a small, frail figure bound to a chair. Sebastian looked at the person and gasped. Holy shit, it was a child, a little girl, couldn’t have been older than seven. The shock must have been written on his face because Moriarty crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, beckoning Moran to speak.

Sebastian opened his mouth to protest but found no words. This was a test, he knew it without a doubt by the look in the bosses’ eyes. Waiting for him to admit defeat – and consequently be disposed of like a useless tool.

Sebastian didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Mostly because he quite liked being alive.

But even the thought of shooting a child made his stomach churn.

“What has she done? Stolen your candy?”, he asked, trying to sound joking in his attempt to stall for time.

“She’s the daughter of someone who thought it wise to gyp me. Bad move.”

“And you’re taking it out on his daughter? Was he too hard to get a hold of or what?”, Sebastian teased. He was walking on thin ice but he couldn’t brutally murder an innocent child just because his father crossed the wrong people.

Quick as lightning Moriarty pounced on him, pressing a knife against his throat. That shut him up. Had he gone too far?

The rage burning in Moriarty’s eyes made him think so. But then, suddenly, the man laughed. Like he’d made an especially funny joke. It sent shivers down Sebastian’s spine.

“Having a soft spot for children, haven’t we, Tiger?”, he purred. “If you wouldn’t be so … interesting, I’d kill you for this insubordination. I’ll let it slide this once but never talk like this with me ever again or I’ll have to teach that filthy mouth of yours some manners…” He left a small cut on Sebastian’s neck before pocketing his knife again.

Moran sighed internally and reached for his gun, already praying for forgiveness for what he was about to do. He aimed directly for the girl’s head. It would be quick. As long as he didn’t look her in the eyes …

“Put it away”, Moriarty said and Sebastian looked over at him, confused.

“Are you daft? I said put the gun away”, he repeated. Moran lowered the weapon. What the fuck was going on here?

“Neil!”, Moriarty barked and the ruffian from the gates emerged from somewhere. Sebastian’s shoulders tensed. He hadn’t heard anybody entering and scolded himself for letting his guard down like this. “Be a good boy and drive little Emma back to her home. I trust her father will get the message”, the boss continued. Neil nodded and did as he was told.

Sebastian stayed behind, gripping his gun like his life depended on it. His knuckles white, his breath shallow and laboured. Despite being one head taller and definitely stronger than Moriarty, he didn’t delude himself to think he could take the man in a fight. There was something wild and primeval about Moriarty, like being face-to-face with a cobra.

“Would that be all, then?”, Moran managed to ask in a steady voice.

“Hm? Yes, sure”, Moriarty said absentmindedly, already occupying himself with his phone again. He dismissed him with a lazy gesture.

Sebastian wasted no time in getting out and raced his car home, collecting at least three speeding tickets on the way. He didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

It was early morning and the St. Patrick’s church was almost empty this time of day. Just some elderly ladies were seated in silent contemplation in the front row. Sebastian chose a bench in the back of the church, folded his hands and started praying, his words a constant silent whisper.

He didn’t kill today.

And he’d never felt bad for killing before anyway, at least not in the pray-for-forgiveness way.

Today he felt bad, even though he might just have saved that little girl’s life. He was shaken and he needed forgiveness because he couldn’t forgive himself for even considering going through with Moriarty’s order. He should have flat-out refused – even if that would’ve gotten him killed. At least then he’d have died with his morality intact.

His gaze fell upon the confessional, the place of absolution. Telling anyone was out of the question of course but the shrift wouldn’t start for another two hours so he’d have the booth to himself.

Silently he stood up and headed over, checking if the confessional really was completely empty before entering.

The small, confined space brought back childhood memories he quickly chased away. He sighed and folded his hands again, closing his eyes for good measure.

_Forgive me, father, for I have sinned …_

The list of his misgivings was long. His last confession had been a long time ago, before he’d been sent to the battlefield.

After about half an hour he excited the booth again. Not really relieved but with his mind steady and calm again. A group of tourists poured inside and he decided it was time to leave.

He stepped outside and was promptly grabbed and pulled around the corner into the small church garden. His first thought was to break free and hit the bastard, whoever he was, senseless but then he caught a glimpse of black hair and a small figure and – against all instincts – stopped himself.

The grip around his arm loosened, then disappeared completely, and he turned around to lock eyes with Moriarty. He expected rage for stepping out of line earlier or at least mockery for his religiousness but as always he failed to predict his employer’s reaction.

“So that’s where you ran off to”, Moriarty said calmly, taking in his surroundings.

“Seems like it”, Sebastian said cautiously. “How did you find me?” The more pressing question was what he wanted from him. He still half expected not to survive the day.

“A magician never tells his tricks”, Moriarty said, smiling teasingly. Sebastian shook his head in disbelief. That man. Standing in his perfectly-fitted designer suit in the middle of this idyllic garden, killing people for a living and – apparently – having a simple chat with him at the moment.

He didn’t know what to say. So they just stood there, watching each other.

“It was a test by the way”, Moriarty said after a while.

“A test?”, Sebastian echoed. Adding: “Did I pass?” He should really learn not to ask questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to.

“We’ll see”, was the only answer the boss gave him, a sly grin spreading on his face. “I’ll call you if I need you. Ciao, Tiger.” He waved and strutted away.

Sebastian let him go, too baffled to even return the goodbye. What the fuck had this been about? Did he track his steps all the way here to show up – in person, mind you – and tell him this had been one of his little games. Somehow Moran doubted this but you could never be sure with a man like Moriarty.

 

* * *

 

The phone was ringing.

Moran’s brain registered the noise but it took him a whole minute to process it. Realizing it was playing “Eye of the Tiger”. That meant there was work to do.

Groaning he scrambled out of bed, stumbling through the apartment in search of his phone. Where did he put the damned thing?

He found it in the pocket of his coat, answering it immediately.

“Moran?” It was the boss.

“Mhm.” Seriously, who else would it be?

Moriarty mumbled something under his breath he didn’t quite make out. It sounded like “Oh, thank god” but that was so unlike the boss that Sebastian was sure he’d misheard.

“The warehouse – now! Bring–”

“My gun, I know”, Moran finished the sentence. “I’ll be there in five minutes, seven at most.”

 

He made it in four minutes thirty even though it was raining cats and dogs.

 

The front gate was closed but unlocked and – even worse – unsupervised. Sebastian let himself in. He had a bad feeling that grew even worse when he opened the backdoor and was greeted by complete darkness. He drew his gun and took a few steps inside.

“Boss? I’m here”, he said into the darkness. No answer. “Boss!”, he repeated, louder this time. Still garnering no response. God damn the man. If he’d called him for nothing Sebastian would make him regret it. “If this is one of your stupid little games, I’ll tell you right now I’m not in the mood.” Still without an answer, Moran got bold, adding: “So you can go fuck yourself. If I don’t find you in the next five minutes I’m leaving.”

“I’m here”, came finally Moriarty’s reply. His voice sounded shaky and sent Sebastian running.

He found his boss next to the big front door, propped up against the wall and practically drenched in blood. Neil dead at his feet.

“Shit! What the hell happened?”, Moran blurted and kneeled down next to his boss.

“Quite a lot, actually”, he said. His expression pained but a wide, manic grin on his face. “Most importantly: I got stabbed.” He laughed breathless.

Sebastian cursed under his breath. “Where did you get stabbed?”, he asked in a clear voice. He was no paramedic but he knew basic first aid. He prayed it would be enough.

“Abdomen. Left side. Didn’t hit any vital organs”, Moriarty said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“We have to get you to a hospital. I’ll stop the bleeding as best as I can and then–”

“NO!”, Moriarty yelled angrily, shutting him up immediately. “ARE YOU COMPLETELY RETARDED?! NO HOSPITAL!” Moran wouldn’t even have thought it in the man to scream like that in his state.

He realized the boss was right. He couldn’t show up at a hospital. Too much explaining, too many traces left to track him or connect him with a murder. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. But what else could he do?

First of all he needed to stop the bleeding.

“I’ll be right back”, he informed Moriarty and ran back to his car to grab the first aid kit.

Moriarty seemed on the edge of unconsciousness when he returned. Sebastian cursed and hastily searched the box for a compress. He unbuttoned the man’s shirt, revealing the deep cut. It bled heavily.

“This is going to hurt”, he warned and pressed the pad on the wound. Moriarty screamed in agonizing pain, his hands flinging forward and digging into Sebastian’s shirt. He let it happen, quickly bandaging the wound, deciding it would have to do for the moment.

“Can you walk?”, he asked.

“Of course!”, Moriarty snapped. “It’s not like my feet were cut off.” He pulled himself in an upright position and managed about five steps before his feet gave in. Sebastian, who had already thought as much, was there to catch him.

The boss glared at him as if this was all his fault but didn’t protest.

 

Moran more or less dragged Moriarty to his car, sitting him down as carefully as he could. Then he raced the car back to his apartment. The boss on the verge of losing consciousness.

Sebastian carried him to the elevator and into his apartment. Laying him down on the bed before rushing to the bathroom where he kept his much better equipped first aid kit. He grabbed disinfectant, a fresh compress and bandages and, most importantly, the medical sewing kit.

Moriarty had passed out. Sebastian checked his vitals and was relieved to find they were slow but steady. So far so good, he thought.

He did all he could. Disinfecting the edges of the wound – being grateful on the bosses’ behalf that he wasn’t awake to witness it – before sewing it shut. He applied the new bandage and checked Moriarty’s vitals again. Still steady.

 

Then he waited. Distracting himself with a glass of Bourbon and watching TV. He had the gun in his hand, aiming it at the door. Whoever was after the boss might still be after him, eager to finish what he’d started.

 

Around noon Moran thought it safe enough to leave Moriarty unguarded for a quick walk to the corner store. When he came back, the boss was sitting on the couch, still dressed in his bloodied suit and unbuttoned shirt. His look was arctic cold.

“Did you lock the gates when we left yesterday?”, he asked in a bored, professional tone.

Sebastian nodded. He had indeed stopped to padlock the damned thing. Couldn’t risk anyone snooping around and discovering Neil’s corpse.

“What about the body?”, the boss went on to ask.

“Still there. I’ll take care of it later.”

“No need. I already called someone”, Moriarty said. He paused, pondering his next words carefully. “You did a great job yesterday”, he finally managed, the words stiff. Sebastian nodded, accepting the unspoken thank you.

“What happened?”, he asked.

“Neil”, Moriarty said darkly, a flicker of rage in his eyes. “Somebody paid him enough to let him forget his loyalties and try to assassinate me. I had to shoot to stop him. He should be glad I did, really, because if he’d be still alive I’d hunt him down and break EVERY BONE IN HIS BODY! Oh, he’d wish he was dead.”

“Well there’s still whoever paid him to go after”, Sebastian suggested.

“I like your thinking, Tiger”, Moriarty complimented him, a devilish grin on his face. “And since Neil decided to quit I need a new right-hand man. Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.”


End file.
